"Never attempt to win by force what can be won by deception."
― Niccolo Machiavelli
~O~
Bane believes that Queen Lucy's most important attribute is her lack of wiles and cunning, for if she possessed the disposition of her siblings, his plan wouldn't have gotten this far.
She trusted him completely, and she often told him stories of a fox who saved her family when they first stepped foot into Narnia. Such an act earned them veneration amongst the Talking Beast, and upended a long-time prejudice against their kind. That perhaps a fox was capable of more than deceit.
But alas, that is precisely Bane's gambit.
Queen Lucy has requested a private meeting with General Oreius, an act he noted as an unusual request when the centaur inquired if the rest of the council will be invited but the queen declined.
With the ears he used for the Guild, he puts it to work going into another room, and despite the walls between them, Bane was thankful the entire castle was quiet so he could pay attention to the muffled vibrations of their voices.
Oreius has just closed the door behind him. "What must we do with the Prince of Archenland? He tried to murder the High King."
Queen Lucy remains quiet, and the silence had gone so long that Bane wonders if she had left the room.
When she does not respond, he presses further. "Perhaps we should wait until The Just King and The Gentle Queen have returned?"
"No," she says finally. "I am entirely capable of making this decision. And my decision is that we cannot simply release him without imposing consequences."
"King Lune will not be pleased," Oreius adds with an inflection that makes Bane think it would be much worse than that.
"The crime Prince Corin has committed is of the highest degree. I will not hand him over until the High King returns. Until now, the prince will remain in Cair Paravel."
"And if King Lune declares a war, Your Majesty? Queen Susan is still in Anvard."
It is always a delight, Bane thinks, to see power up close, and to see it panic. The chaos is unfolding just as Calla predicted that it would.
"Then it falls to Edmund to reach Susan first. Upon their safe arrival within the borders of Narnia, we shall initiate negotiations with King Lune," Lucy states, her resolve clear. A beat passes before she adds in a lowered voice. "But until then, General—and I impress this upon you with the greatest importance—no one outside of this castle can know that the prince of Archenland is here."
Bane's ears twitched, absorbing every syllable. Information was a weapon, and he was a master at wielding it.
As he pulls his ears away from the wall, as he steps out and into the quiet and still hallways of the Cair, there's only one goal in his mind.
He had already intercepted a Raven that came from The Just King's ship. What's one more?
To win the game of kings and queens, it was important to know if one was a pawn, or a player. And he, above all, knows how to play his part well.
~O~
Edmund had barely slept, taking it upon himself to drag a chair facing the window in a bid to watch the stars move.
By now, Lucy should have found out what happened to him if his crewman sent a Raven not long after the pirates had kidnapped him and Calla.
But even if she did, as Queen of Narnia, any effort to extract him from a foreign land would be limited.
If news of the Just King's abduction were to spread to the southern regions, whatever front the royal siblings have put up in terms of security would further disintegrate and leave Narnia vulnerable to external threats or even internal unrest.
It's a dark predicament, that Lucy's most prudent course of action following his kidnapping would be inaction. For any action, any move, would certainly lead to war.
It is he who must make it home, and in doing so, he must maintain a low profile.
Still, he couldn't help but feel responsible for the crisis in Calormen. Since arriving in Zalindreh, he had not fully grasped just how critical their trading ports were and how missing even just a few shipments precipitated absolute chaos in the land—no less than during a plague.
Calla had been right.
The weight of his decisions bore down on him with an intensity he had not felt within the secure walls of the Narnian throne room.
He had understood, in theory, the importance of the trading ports, but being in Zalindreh, witnessing the ripple effect of their closure, brought a stark and unsettling reality to light. The missed shipments, a seemingly minor disruption from afar, had precipitated chaos and choked the lifeline of Calormen's poorer colonies.
Lying awake, Edmund considers delaying his quest to Anvard and making an appearance in the capital of Calormen.
Perhaps he could negotiate setting up a humanitarian border, one that would allow the import of essential supplies from Narnia. Except that would only end up as a short-term solution, and Edmund always likes to think ten steps ahead with an ever present glance over the shoulder; deep down, he knows that engaging with an empire that maintained colonies was fraught with complexities. Not to mention the very ridiculous but very real possibility that Rabadash would label any such intervention as an undermining of the Tisroc's autonomy.
With dawn breaking, Edmund could feel the urgency of his decision. Every moment spent idling could mean one more child like Sheba losing her parents.
But that also meant putting Susan in more danger if she was not returned to Narnia as quickly as possible, far from any domain that seeks to treat her as a pawn rather than a queen.
On most days, The Just King and Edmund Pevensie were always two halves of the same whole. But there are times when The Just King and Edmund Pevensie are not on the same page.
The Just King relishes to serve the people he swore on Aslan's mane to protect. Edmund Pevensie just wants to go home and be with his family.
He should have never let Susan accept Rabadash's invitation to Calormen. He should have seen it for the sham it was. The fault is all his.
Susan had always been the focal point of many men's affections. But it's her indomitable will, her confidence and wit, that has rendered every suitor—lord, prince, or king—inadequate in Edmund's eyes.
For his beloved sister, Edmund had brandished his sword against countless hopefuls who fancied themselves worthy, each professing to be her equal.
Yet none have risen to the measure of her esteem.
So the very thought of her in Rabadash's presence, without him there to intervene if she needed, riles him to the point of near madness. The idea of Rabadash, with his unscrupulous intentions, daring to harm Susan was unthinkable, intolerable. Such a notion inflames something in his soul, an anger so primal and fierce that nothing in this world could restrain the wrathful strike of his twin blades.
In fact, he has even imagined it more than once; one blade aiming to cut off limbs that will dare commit such transgressions... and, perhaps the other will strike the area below his belt too, just for good measure. Because, after all, if you're going to teach a scoundrel a lesson, why not make it one he'll never forget?
But surely, it was better to not have to deal with the ramifications of such a far-fetched scenario. His focus now is to go to Anvard, at all costs.
"Couldn't sleep?"
Edmund looks back to see Calla at the top of the staircase. She hadn't looked like she slept much either.
"I've been thinking about what you said last night." Calla said. Quickly, he remembers their last interaction that begins warming his cheeks, and he turns away hoping she would not have to see it.
"I fear my response was unbecoming towards you," she elaborates and Edmund feels his chest deflate in relief. "My accusation of you being a disgrace was entirely unfounded. Your decision to remain and assist the people of Zalindreh, with the humble admission of your prior misjudgments, speaks highly of your character."
Edmund blanches. Why did she have to put it that way? Why bring this up now, just when he was about to propose leaving at first light? "You really need not—"
"No, I must," she insists, and this time it looks genuine instead of contrived. "I also have not properly thanked you for saving… whatever was left of me. I called you selfish, but you are far from it. You are, most emphatically, a true and selfless king of Narnia."
Selfless. That sounded wrong. Because that isn't what he is. Such a virtue, in its purest and most unblemished form, belongs solely to Aslan. In fact, the reminder of the Great Lion's most selfless act is printed in the red and gold of Narnia's banner, the colour of Aslan's coat and the blood he shed on the Stone Table.
Every time Edmund wore his colours, he was reminded he was not worthy of the sacrifice. No one ever said he was. No one ever said he will be. Though, he always tried. Every chance to prove he was no longer that once troublesome boy, he will take.
The White Witch may not have turned him to stone, but no one had proof it did not turn his heart. If he gives in to his desires, Edmund's desires, it will be proof she still lives in him. And if he lets the coldness fester, he's certain with every fibre of his being that it will spread with the speed of pestilence, and swallow him whole until he's frozen. And no one can save him, not even Aslan.
He won't turn back into that little boy with a weakness for sweetness.
He cannot be Edmund Pevensie.
He is the Just, and the Just he shall be.
"Edmund, are you alright?" Calla asks.
For a moment, he's disarmed by the way she uttered his name, so much so that he just verbally points out the next thing his eyes land on.
"There's food on the table," he says. "Fortunately, the rings I had on my person were enough for Sheba to acquire us a sen-night's worth of bread." He starts walking past her, half disoriented. "You should eat up. You will need your strength when we depart at sunbreak."
"For Anvard?" she asks.
Edmund swallows. Susan, he thinks fondly. I pray you can endure just a little while longer.
"To Tashbaan."
~O~
If Calla believed in the stars, she'd surely think the gods were on her side.
The Just King has decided to not leave Calormen after all. At least, not yet. It was the perfect subterfuge to take him back to headquarters of The Guild not too far. It will be much easier to sway him there rather than figure out how to diverge him away from Anvard.
She knew that playing into his character—his facade of being this just and noble king, would arbitrarily push him to staying out of guilt. It had not been a wasted effort after all to do more research on his background, and all the more it made sense that the mere mention of Jadis had caused him to collapse on the ship.
It was all starting to add up, and she now has a very clear understanding of what made him tick and talk.
The way he looked at her when she pretended to believe in his goodness—oh it was marvellous! If only the Guild could see just how masterfully she's weaving this all together. And one day, she'll be able to step back and see the tapestry for the grand idea it had always been. Despite what everyone in the Guild had said. Despite Bane's doubts.
Bane.
When she thinks of him, suddenly, she feels a wave of exhaustion creeping in her limbs. Pretending is only ever tolerable when there was an opportunity to unmask somewhere. With someone.
For now, she'll have to make sure Edmund does not suspect a single thing until the point of no return. And once the king crosses that line, no matter where he turns, he will find himself inescapably within reach of her checkmate.
~O~
Susan tries not to panic so much.
Despite having sought refuge in Anvard, Archenland's capital and most secure fortress, she cannot help but feel the need to look over her shoulder at every waking moment.
She never would have expected this turn of events a full moon ago.
And to think, it all started just because she had been feeling inadequate in her role as a queen.
Lucy kept herself busy overseeing the rehabilitation and social welfare of the Narnians, the displaced, the discriminated. She was right at home being in the wild, ensuring she felt the pulse of the land right where the Narnians felt most at home.
Edmund dedicated his time to statecraft, often holding audiences where he attentively listened to the concerns and needs of the Narnians before responding with appropriate policies.
Peter's role as the final decision-maker kept him busy, always overseeing defence and security, always supervising the implementation of laws, arbitrating in high-profile disputes, always engaged in shaping the future of Narnia and ensuring her stability and prosperity.
Susan didn't feel like she contributed as much.
Yes, she represents the kingdom at major events, ceremonies, and in times of celebration or mourning, embodying the spirit and values of Narnia.
But these diplomatic endeavours, while important, felt lacking to the impact her siblings have been making. Hosting dignitaries and attending meetings in grand halls aren't life changing. Everything is always neatly arranged, pristine, and in order. What good is a monarch in a place where there is nothing to be solved?
Not long after Peter left for the north, Rabadash had sent a Raven inviting her to Calormen, and Susan thinks the timing could not have been more opportune.
Edmund had tried to convince her not to go.
"I have a bad feeling about this, Susan," he said.
"But no one gets invited to Calormen, Ed. You know that," Susan replied. "This could be our chance to change everything."
Perhaps this was her mission: to be the first to engage with Calormen, but more importantly, to get to the bottom of slave trade rumors. Despite the Tisroc's firm stance on sovereignty and his reluctance to open his nation to external scrutiny, she believed there was a way in.
And if there was one person who could persuade the Tisroc, it was his less-than-eloquent-but-will-do son. Through him, she hopes to sway the Tisroc, to understand the reality on the ground, and, if necessary, to lay the groundwork holding the leaders accountable for any injustices uncovered.
That, in itself, would be life changing work. She'll be more than just a face at diplomatic gatherings.
Edmund finally relented when Susan would not hear his counterarguments. If it was for the sake of helping those in the neighbouring lands, then he would support her.
When Susan arrived in Calormen, however, Rabadash had no interest in talks of politics, and constantly subdued any attempt by Susan to probe further into the wellbeing of their citizens. Though he showed her a tour of the capital, there were streets that he seemed to avoid like the plague, and when Susan would insist on visiting a region she had researched about, Rabadash dismissed her requests and claimed they never existed.
Then, she discovers the truth of his intentions.
When he had returned to the carriage, he proposed the idea of a strategic marriage to her, accompanied by a touch that had gone too far, too soon.
It's there that Susan had slapped him with such sheer force, the prince toppled over and out of the carriage, and was found sobbing on the ground by his attendants and a confused crowd. After they returned to the castle and left Susan to her quarters, later that evening, she was no longer to be found—the only trace of her was a makeshift rope of bed sheets hanging from the bedpost down to the balcony.
The Narnian company of royal ambassadors was fortunately within her reach before the horns blared to send the Calormene guards running after her. Susan and her company were able to swiftly escape the city, not without pursuers, but far enough to the border of Anvard that Rabadash signalled to stop following, knowing very well the area around the border was heavily militarised.
King Lune of Archenland was thankfully receptive of her plea to seek asylum, and readily accepted her party of envoys. She does not know what would have happened if her requests were ignored—what fate would have befallen her if the prince's eagerness to pursue her was as relentless as his ambition to become Tisroc.
She fears a world where there is no escape from men like Rabadash, and she could only determine that the walls and borders created will be enough to deter any attempts of conquest.
The sun casts a golden glow over the garden, where Susan awaits with a sense of anticipation. Today, she expects an event that will change her course: Edmund will arrive on a ship to escort her back to Narnia.
Her eyes scan the horizon for any sign of his approach, but when the sun over the sea remains uncut by a silhouette, she returns her gaze to the chessboard in front of her, the pieces slowly rattling before she hears the thunder of hooves.
It sounds like a troop of soldiers on horseback, pulling up in the courtyard of Archenland not far from the garden.
Susan hears footsteps from behind, turning around to see one of King Lune's court ladies attending to her.
"You have news of my brother?"
"Nothing, your Majesty," the lady answered, avoiding direct eye contact.
Her intuition, ever sharp, knows when the air is thick with something unsaid. The signs are always clear: Lucy's eyes blinking more than usual; Edmund's frequent gulps and nose-thumbing as if warding off inconvenient facts; Peter being excessively agreeable in a conversation.
More than that, Susan noticed the unusual alertness of the soldiers surrounding her.
"You must join me," she says, eyeing the chessboard and gauging the ease of the servants. "It's rather lonely to play alone, and I grow anxious when there's little to occupy my time."
"It is a tempting offer, yet we mustn't, Your Majesty," the court lady keeps her formal distance. "It is essential that you return to your quarters without delay."
Susan stands up this time, her voice steadier than she felt. "Where are my envoys?"
At that moment, the general of King Lune's elite army strides into the garden, his demeanour solemn, his steps measured. "You are not to meet with them, my Queen,"he announces, quickly disintegrating the friendly presence the court lady tried hard to maintain.
"We must escort you back to the castle immediately."
"Do not misunderstand, for I have been more than grateful for the hospitality, but this is most unusual. "Susan responds, commanding respect, for she fears losing it. "You cannot deny me the presence of my own emissaries."
"I'm afraid circumstances have changed, Your Majesty," the general replies, his expression unreadable.
"What do you mean?"
The general's eyes shift between her and the chess board she had just left, where the ebony pieces stood sharply in contrast to the gleaming pearl-white of their opponents.
"Your Majesty, you must understand. In desperate times, a queen may be the most powerful piece but she may also find herself unable to move."
His words were slow and deliberate, heavy with a significance that Susan couldn't quite understand. As he continues to speak, the full weight of his words began to manifest itself.
"King Lune, in his search for the Prince, has reason to believe his son is being imprisoned in Narnia. I am afraid Queen Susan has now become a crucial piece His Majesty does not intend to lose."